Hijacked
by Maggie-of-the-valley
Summary: A hijacked aircraft, a girl who is not who she says she is, a co-pilot that just wants to protect her, and a brother who is her only hope. Bella Swan had no choice but to claim she is Mary Brandon, her distraction on this terrifying aircraft is the co-pilot, Edward, and all she can do is wish for her Navy SEAL brother to come charging through the door. Canon pairings, a bit OOC.
1. Chapter 1

HIJACKED

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, Stephenie Meyer owns all the characters.**

**Chapter 1- Pilot **

Edward Cullen

9 AM, flying a Boing 757 direct to Cairo Egypt

In flight school pilots all learn that squawk codes are the most important weapons in our arsenal. When you have a radio failure, you can't tell ATC that you have a radio failure so you squawk 7600, when you have to declare an emergency and get everyone out of your way you squawk 7700 and when you have a hijacked aircraft you squawk 7500. These codes are the number which appears next to your aircraft on the air traffic controller's screen, and when you squawk in 7700, 7600 or 7500 an alarm blares in the ATC center. It is not something you do if you are unsure of your situation.

"Central engine starter switch position 1, start engine 1" Rick read from the checklist as he turned the key in the jet, the right engine purred to life, "Central engine start switch position 2, and starting engine two" the second engine joined the first, vibrating our aircraft, just waiting to fly. "Central engine starter switch in central position and APU switch is on, let's contact ground Cullen." My pilot in command stated as he looked at me for confirmation.

"Yes sir, radios set for midway ground 121.65." I confirmed as I looked at our radio frequencies, Rick seemed to be a hard ass, he had been working at American for the past 30 years and with the cutbacks everyone was a little tense. I had just met him yesterday when we flew in from New York, we were on our way to Egypt today, it would be a long flight so we had two additional pilots seated behind us. It was my first year at American and somehow I had been placed in a 757 which is next to impossible for a first year pilot, though I had graduated from college with my ATP and been hired right out of college by southwest, I flew 737's for that time and I realized southwest wasn't the place for me, it was too relaxed. I liked structure and authority, plus I wanted to be admired and treated with respect when I became PIC in a brand new Dreamliner.

Rick reached over to press comm 2 so we could listen to weather at Midway. I picked up my pen to write down the weather on my kneeboard. The electronic voice came on then that always reminded me of what Stephen Hawking would sound like with his electronic voice. "Midway Automated Weather Information Quebec, 13:51 Zulu, winds 020 at 16 gusts 24. Visibility 10, ceiling 4,100 broken 30,000 broken, temperature 9, dew point -1, altimeter 30.24. Visual approach runway 4 right in use, landing and departing runway 4, Notices To Airmen taxiway Romeo closed, Runway 4 right localizer out of service, aircraft should operate mode C on taxiways and runways, bird activities in the vicinity of the airport, contact 118.7 for clearances, read back all runway hold short and flight level clearances, advise on initial contact, you have information Quebec." The voice finished and I looked back at Rick.

"Runway 4 today, hope we don't hit a flock of geese." The guy behind me joked, and I chuckled, his name was Eric and he was a few years older than me, he was taking over as co-pilot after my designated 8 hours.

"Except we don't have the Hudson to land in today, all we have is lake Michigan." I joked back, Rick shot me a glare, and I guess I wasn't allowed to joke about an emergency landing.

"Get a clearance Cullen." He practically spat at me so I clicked my mic button;

"Midway ground, American 674 Mike Alpha heavy with information Quebec requesting taxi to the active." I said calmly

"American 647 Mike Alpha heavy, ground, taxi to runway 4 right. Left on Bravo, Right on Juliet, Left Foxtrot, hold short of 4 right." ATC advised me.

"Left Bravo, right Juliet, left Foxtrot hold short runway 4 right, American 674 Mike Alpha heavy." I repeated back and looked over at right; he just looked down at the parking break.

"Parking break release, and left on Bravo." He said as we began taxiing, we had already boarded all 188 of the passengers and been towed to center line so we could start up the engines.

"So how long is everyone staying in Cairo?" I asked to fill the silence.

"I'll be there 12 hours before I have to deadhead to Dubai." The captain of the second leg stated, his name was Jose I believe. He seemed like a nice guy.

"Oh yeah? That's awesome dude, you should take a pic of yourself scaling the tallest building in the world. The one from Mission Impossible." Eric joked and I chuckled at that, idiot.

"I think it would be a bit difficult to scale a glass building, but I'll come to your funeral." I joked.

One takeoff, 6 checklists and 15 vectors and 3 passenger updates later we were on course for our flight to Cairo international. I did my instrument scan of all the instruments in front of me, then above me and finally to the left of me. All was quite in the cockpit, I guess Eric fell asleep and Jose wasn't much of a talker. Rick was still manning the flight controls while I observed. It wasn't a very eventful flight.

Then I heard a female voice through the cockpit door "Denzel" she stated as she knocked. That was our previously planned code word when a flight attendant was going to come in and offer us food or coffee. Jose got up and looked through the peep hole before he let her in. She was a heavy set black woman in her thirties. I liked her when we had briefed her on the flight and planned for a code word. She had chosen the word Denzel after Denzel Washington who was starring in the new movie Flight. "Would you fella's like some coffee?" She asked with hint of a southern accent as Jose closed and locked the door behind her.

"Oh you're my savior," Eric voice was thick with sleep, "I'd love some coffee and a few cookies if you have 'em."

"Of course we do." she smiled and looked over to Jose, expecting an order from him.

"I'm good for now, thanks ma'am." He said politely as he sat down.

"And how bout you two pilots?" She directed the question at Rick and I, so I looked over at him, expecting him to order first.

"Nothing thank you, maybe in a bit." He said, a bit coldly.

I looked at her and smiled "I would love a huge black coffee if you wouldn't mind." She nodded.

"I'll be right back with two coffees and a bag of cookies." She said, opening the door. Jose closed it behind her but didn't sit back down.

Then we heard commotion in the cabin, what sounded like yelling and banging. "What is that?" I asked Jose and he turned to the door to look through the peephole.

"It's probably just some rowdy guys who have had one too many drinks," he guessed nonchalantly. Except it sounded like intense screaming, not some argument about beverages, then I heard the words that would haunt me forever "In case you haven't realized, we are hijacking this aircraft!" it came clear as day through the reinforced cabin doors. And that's when I moved my hand to the transponder, without even looking to rick for confirmation, and I dialed over to squawk 7500.

Bella Swan

The morning of the hijacking, Chicago IL.

"Emmett Have you seen my coffee?" I yelled, looking all over the room for my mug of coffee and not seeing it anywhere.

"Have you checked your stomach?" He yelled back from the living room where he was doing pushups.

"Ha ha, yes and he wants more company, he's getting lonely." I said back as I walked across the hall to the bathroom we all shared while he was state-side and I saw it on the counter next to my blow dryer. "Never mind, I found it." Of course, it's always in the freaking bathroom; I never remember to check there first.

I walked back to my room to go over everything I needed for my trip to Cairo; I had already gone through it twice but there is always that one important thing that I forget. Last time I went on a photography exhibition I forgot my frog togs, so I had to walk through these bogs in the Sylvania wilderness with just shorts on and the flies ate me alive. We even re-named those flies "bog flies" because they were so fucking big.

This time I would need hot and cold gear as well as bags for my camera to attempt to keep the sand out. I was so excited; I just needed to remember everything.

"You got the pepper spray? And that pocket knife? And that flint I bought you?" Emmett asked from behind me, he was a SEAL so he always wanted me to be prepared. I don't know why I would need a flint though; I mean I was staying in a hotel with a guard. One of Emmett's buddies was going to keep an eye on me.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, MacGyver, but I doubt I'll be able to use the flint. I couldn't even work it in the back yard."

"It's a children's flint, for boy scouts and shit, you can use it. Just remember to create a big enough pile of magnesium under the dried twigs." He reminded me for the umpteenth time. It's not that I couldn't remember how to do it; I just couldn't physically do it.

"Emmett stop bothering her, Jake will be with her the whole time, she's going to be fine." Rosalie cut in, she was standing next to Em in the doorway wile I continued looking through my bag.

"Exactly, and besides, Jake won't let anything happen to me, he's too terrified of you." I joked. Jake was guy that grew up with Emmett, then got into the oil business and got a job as a translator for some Egyptian oil companies. He had a massive build just like Emmett and I always felt safe with him.

"You got your razor Bella?" Rose winked at me, "you never know when you're gonna need it."

Emmett scowled at that, "no Bells, you're not going to need that razor." I laughed, he was so naive, he lost his freaking virginity when he was way younger than me, hell I was still a virgin at 19.

I zipped up my REI hiking backpack then, packed full to the brim with all the survival items I needed in Egypt. "Alright guys, help me out to the car so that I can leave you guys alone for the next 2 weeks. You get to be all alone in this big house." I said seductively and Emmett grabbed Rosalie around the waist to gleefully kiss her. "Ugh not yet, just wait another hour," I complained as I tried to push past them into the hallway with my huge bag in my arms. Emmett caught up with me and grabbed the bag with one arm, a feat I could never in my wildest dreams achieve.

"Alright sis, let's get you off to those pyramids."

"Alright, let me just grab my carry on." My carry on had all of the civilized products I would use, all in 4 ounce containers and crammed into one small zip-lock, as specified by TSA so that wouldn't get it taken away. Along with that was my wallet, passport and boarding pass so I wouldn't have to dig around in my backpack.

"Wait Bella, I made you and Emmett some breakfast." Rosalie said. Thank God, because I was getting hungry, I would no doubt be famished on the 12 hour flight. Normally I made the food in our house, but I was too stressed and busy this morning to do so.

"Oh good, we have to eat fast though," I said. Rose had made an omelet for Emmett and a mini, half egg white omelet for me with cheese and veggies. I munched on a whole grain piece of toast while we chatted and went over my itinerary, which contained mostly outdoor activities so I could get the pictures I wanted. Emmett ate his whole omelet with sausage and bacon while Rose ate yogurt and eyed the bacon.

"Oh Rose one piece won't hurt." I joked as Rosalie's head snapped up from the bacon plate to my face, looking like a puppy that had just peed on the carpet.

"Yes it will, I have a photo shoot in 3 days, I'm going to be a mermaid." I laughed, I could just imagine her sitting on a rock combing her long blonde hair with a seashell and staring at her reflection in the waves.

"What's the book called?" Rose was a model for those trashy novels in the adult section of the book store, and occasionally she modeled for high end car magazines or other things. Rose was a very promiscuous woman; I had a feeling that that pole in her and Emmett's room wasn't a support for the attic like they claimed.

"Into the Waves, corny as usual, but it pays the bills." Then she looked at Emmett, "plus I get to be pressed up against oily men all day." She joked; Emmett looked up from his plate and glared at her.

"I think I'll come with you for this photo shoot," he threatened.

"Good, because I am in so much danger from these gay boys who have never seen the outside of a gym." We always talked about those people who had gym muscles versus the people who had natural muscles, you could tell the difference based on the distribution of muscle. Emmett had natural muscles; in fact he wasn't even allowed to do anything besides bodyweight exercises. Being a SEAL had its benefits.

We all piled into the car for the one and a half hour car trip to Midway Airport and after an excited goodbye I was on my way to the international terminal. Right as I was about to get in line for the check in I saw a girl crying at the front of the line. "No I swear I have it, just give me a second." She pled as she rummaged through her bag, I could tell the bag was expensive, as were the other two she had at her feet. She had on a nice black jeans and knee high boots with a tight purple jacket on. She looked oddly familiar.

"I'm sorry ma'am but we cannot let you into the airport without your boarding pass." The clerk said in a monotone.

"But I have to be on that plane, my fiancé is meeting me there and I can't miss him. I haven't seen him in a month!" the black haired girl explained. Maybe her fiancé was in the military, I knew what it was like for them when they only got so many days of leave, they couldn't very well be flying half the time.

"No pass, no entrance, and there are no more flights until tomorrow morning." The clerk said.

"You can't just bump someone, maybe I could buy a seat in the cockpit?" The clerk laughed at that.

"No ma'am you cannot book a seat in the cockpit, you can however book tomorrow mornings flight and stop holding up the line." He repeated.

"Okay, okay I'll book tomorrows flight." She acquiesced, reluctantly. After much typing and a few more exchanges she was turning to leave, I was next in line by then and we made eye contact which I quickly broke. But as I was staring at the ground I suddenly realized why she looked so familiar, she was the Chicago Mayors daughter, Rahm Brandon, and she was Mary Brandon. I looked at her retreating form, she looked so upset. It never even occurred to me to give her my boarding pass until I was already seated on the plane, in the aisle seat with a man and his husband next to me. They were holding hands and had matching wedding band; it was about an hour into the flight when two men got out of their seats. One from the back of the plane and the other from the middle, they argued with the flight attendant for a moment before they pulled out two guns from their jackets. Before anyone even had a chance to realize what was going on the flight attendant attempted to tackle one of them to the ground, but tackling in an airplane aisle was quite impossible and the second man hit her over the head and she collapsed in the middle of the aisle with a groan.

"Bitch get the fuck off me," the one she had attempted to tack spat as he kicked her stomach.

"If you people move one fucking muscle, I will shoot your brains out so fast you won't even hear the gun!" the second man with black hair was shouting, I was hunched over in my seat with my hands over my head, was this real? Was this plane really getting hijacked?

"In case you haven't realized, we are hijacking this aircraft! Or would it be considered a skyjacking at this point Lou?" One of them asked the other.

"I don't know Jim-Bob, maybe we can ask these passengers." He one named Lou hinted, I peeked up to look down the aisle and saw Lou putting the gun under a flight attendants chin, I could see her chin quivering as she glared at him from her spot on the floor, the beverage cart next to her.

"I don't know." She growled with her teeth clenched, she was trying so hard not to cry.

"Well you should." He said as he hit her over the head, she slammed into the ground yet again and moaned. "Anyway, we have some business to attend to." Lou said, walking down the aisle.

"Yes we do Lou, you see, we are looking for a very special woman, one whose daddy has greatly upset us. We are looking for Mary Brandon." The second one, Jim-Bob said and I gasped. No!

"So will that little lady please stand up?" Lou said. All was silent, nobody dared to move a muscle while my brain worked a thousand miles per hour, and she wasn't on this plane. What would they do if nobody stood up? Did they know what she looked like? Surely all would not end well if they found out she wasn't on this plane, they would get even angrier.

"I SAID will Mary Brandon please stand up!" Jim-Bob screamed from the front of the plane, by this time Lou was walking back up through the aisles and stepping over the flight attendant.

"I think she's a coward Jim, I think we should start shooting people. Or maybe just cutting their throats, I don't know Lou, you choose." The psychopath said. So I did the only thing I would think of, I lifted my head and raised my hand, praying that they didn't know what the real Mary Brandon looked like.

"I'm Mary Brandon."

**Well this isn't my first fanfic, but I'll try my best to keep up with this one. I would like to say that I am not a pilot on a 757, I am a student pilot at this time, but I did quite a bit of research and most of Edward's point of view should be accurate; feel free to correct me if it is not. **

**In case any of you are interested in this aviation lingo, I'll tell you what some of the words mean, though they are not too important to the story. First Edward said he had his ATP which is an Airline Transport Pilots license, it is next to impossible to earn in college, but if you have the money to complete the flight hours then I guess you could. You see in college you must first earn you private pilot certificate, your instrument pilot certificate and your commercial pilot cert before you can get your ATP. That's a lot of flying right there. **

**Then Deadheading is when a plot flies for free so they can get to a location that they need to be at for their next flight.**

**I would also like to point out that I don't know if there are 4 seats in a 757 but I'm **_**pretty**_** sure there are, there need to be 4 pilots there because the Federal Aviation Regulations state that a pilot may not fly for more than 8 hours straight, there are many more regulations about the rest to flying ratio but I won't get into that. **

**Lastly I would like to say that hijacking in this day and age is next to impossible, but getting a gun onto an airplane is not. TSA (the Transportation Security Agency A.K.A. the people that strip search you at the airport) has just released that they have an 80% failure rate of catching illegal substances and weapons. Not most of that 80% is most likely narcotics, but I have heard stories about my fellow students (older ex-army men) **_**accidentally**_** carrying their side-arms onto a commercial flight without being caught. **

**Too much talking sorry! But I'm Mag's and I hope you guys like it. Criticism is welcome, but please not too mean as I am a crier. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it's been so long, college is harder than flying :(**

Bella Swan

Adrenalin is a wonderful device that the human body has in its arsenal, but it is also very dangerous. When people get high off cocaine they describe the feeling as being invincible, they feel like they can do anything. They can jump of that 3 story building or surf those 15 foot swells at midnight. That's what adrenalin does. It makes you feel invincible.

So I did the only thing I would think of, I lifted my head and raised my hand, praying that they didn't know what the real Mary Brandon looked like.

"I'm Mary Brandon."

They both looked at me, I held my breath. Please don't know what she looks like, please I begged silently. "You little cunt, you look just like you're filthy father." The one, Jim-bob I think, spat at me and walked over the flight attendant still crumpled in the aisle. His eyes didn't leave mine; his head was slightly tilted to the right, making him look absolutely deranged. "You're a pretty little thing aren't ya?" He asked and put the nozzle of the gun to my cheek, I looked over at it, seeing that it was a Springfield, maybe an xd 40 with 12 rounds, did they have extra bullets? Of course they had more bullets; you can't hijack a plane without extra bullets. I stared at his trigger finger, he was quivering, maybe with anger or hatred, or drugs, I don't know. But he looked insane.

"C'mon Mary, let's get you to the front of the plane." He said in a sickly sweet voice and grabbed my arm, I quickly unbuckled and took the seatbelt off before following him, I stepped over the flight attendant and she made eye contact with me.

"Are you alright?" I mouthed to her and she nodded her head once in response. Okay good, at least she was conscious. He pulled up to the door to the cockpit and started banging on the door. "Hello Mr. Pilots, I would like to inform you that I have the Mayors daughter in my arms right now, and you little fellas are going to do exactly as I say or I will blow her fucking brains out." He yelled through the door. He is going to be sadly mistaken; the US does not negotiate with terrorists.

"Now open this motherfucking cockpit door before I do something really stupid!" He ran is nose up my neck and pulled me flush against him, I could feel his chest rising and falling and I shivered.

Then I heard one of the pilots yell back through the door "I'm sorry sir but we are not authorized to open this door to anyone other than the flight crew."

"Well I can kill the flight crew for you, will that _authorize_ you to open the door?" Jim-Bob asked.

The pilot didn't answer right away, but when he did I almost wanted to smile. "Sir the United States does not negotiate with terrorists." He replied strongly. Jim-Bob pulled me back and then slammed me as hard as he could into the door.

My head banged against the door and my body was flush against it, "ah!" I gasped and tried to push away from the door, but then I would be getting closer to the Fucker holding me against the door.

"Hey!" The pilot yelled through the door, "Don't fucking hurt her! We'll do whatever you want without us opening the door." Fucker thought about this for a second, and called the tall man over to us.

"We can get them to land somewhere and then get Rahm Brandon to trade the hostages for himself." Jim-Bob said.

"Yeah, a remote airport somewhere." The other one replied, I think his name was Lou.

"You're never going to get away with this." I whispered harshly.

"Oh yeah? Scarred your daddy's gonna get hurt sweetheart?" Lou asked with his face right in front on mine, I looked right into his eyes and replied;

"You're not going to lay a finger on him." The Jim-bob stepped back so I wasn't squished between him and the door, and he threw me onto the ground. My arms flew out in front of me but I couldn't catch myself in time. Then his feet stated colliding with my ribcage, making me cry out in surprise.

"You need to learn some mother fuckin manners you little bitch, or I'm gonna have to teach them to you." He sneered at me. I grabbed at my knees to curl up in the fetal position, or at least attempt to with a foot repeatedly kicking my stomach.

"Stop!" I heard from inside the cockpit, "What do you want us to do?"

Jim-Bob stopped kicking me and looked at the door. "I want to fucking land at the nearest airport and then get the fuck out of the cockpit. And if I don't feel us descending in the next 5 minutes, I'm going to start shooting people." Jim-Bob threatened and turned to face the passengers, whose heads were peaking up to get a look at Jim. "Put your fucking heads down!" He screamed.

I looked for the flight attendant to see if she was okay, she was sitting in the middle of the aisle attempting to pick up the drinks that had spilled when she was shoved to the ground. We made eye contact and I could feel the carpet rubbing against my cheek. I sat up and put my back against the door looking around the aircraft. There was just the one aisle, with three seats on either side of it; most of the seats were filled, with just a few empty ones in the back of the plane. Jim-Bob was whispering to Lou about something, could these two anarchists really hijack this plane? They were so disorganized and crazy; how the fuck did their guns get through security? And they were definitely on some sort of drug, or at least Lou was, he kept touching his mouth and rubbing his arms.

The door behind me started moving and I looked to my right, there was a little crack in the door and I could see one eye. One of the pilots had opened the door to speak with me. "Are you okay Mary?" The young pilot asked. I nodded, "well get in here," He said and was about to open the door more.

"What? No! I'm not leaving these passengers alone with these maniacs." I whisper-shouted. He looked confused. "Now close the door before they see you!" I demanded and tried to pull the door closed, but the handle was above my head and I couldn't reach it without Jim or Lou noticing.

"No, Mary, I'm not leaving you out here." I could see the boys brown eyes, he looked so kind, but I would not make these hijackers mad, who knew what the fuck they would do if they were angry.

"Hey! What the fuck is going on?!" Jim yelled and ran over; I reached my hand up and pulled the handle forward as fast as I could. Jim was running towards me but I couldn't let him get into the cockpit, then I heard the door latch.

"Lock it!" I yelled as Jim was slamming against me, pulling on the handle that I still had in my hand. His legs were pressing against my ribs, God that hurt. I must have a cracked rib or two because I felt like my chest was being crushed.

"What the fuck were you doing you little bitch?" Jim sneered at me as he bent down to my level. "I will rip you apart when I get the chance." It sounded like that was a promise. I kept my face cold and whispered to him.

"I'd like to see you try." I didn't even know what he did next but he must have swung his arm to backhand me because the force behind that hid was incredible. I tipped to the side and didn't even feel myself hit the ground before everything went black.

**Much shorter than the last chapter but at least its something... **

**xoxo see you after finals.**


	3. Chapter 3

If there's one think pilots love, its acronyms. We learn them throughout our training and our flying, whenever we get freaked out or scared we remember an acronym. If we have an engine failure it's A.B.C; Airspeed, Best Field and Checklist. Simple, to the point and easy to remember, that's why we use acronyms so much. It's actually pretty funny because we love acronyms, however when we speak on the radio we use the phonetic alphabet so the controller's understand. But there's no acronym for this, no acronym for how to handle two men in the cabin beating up an innocent girl. Because all we want to do is go out there and rip their fucking heads off, but the safety of the passengers comes first and we can't risk them getting into the cockpit. Another thing we learn is to always, under any circumstance, a pilot always flies the airplane above all else, that is our first priority; fly the plane.

Edward Cullen

Over New York 7pm

"American 674 is the aircraft damaged at all?" New York Center asked us over the radios.

Rick answered "not to our knowledge." Then to us he asked "do you think they have any explosives?"

Eric spoke up "God I hope not, are they Al Qaeda?"

"They don't seem organized enough to be a terrorist cell." I answered.

"American 674 please squawk 4674, and advise on any altitude changes" the man said over the radio.

Rick answered, "squawking 4674 and will advise on altitude changes." Rick reached over to the transponder to put in the squawk code.

"Unless they're trying to seem unorganized so we don't suspect it." Eric said, picking up the conversation right where it left off.

"Alright, stop assuming things." Jose spoke up. "What are the facts? We know there are at least two of them, that they want something from Rahm Brandon,"

"They have at least two guns." Eric announced.

"They have Mary." I spoke up. They had a scared girl back there whom they had locked into the bathroom. Though she was being incredibly brave by not sneaking into the cockpit when she had the chance, or stupid.

"Okay and our priority must be to get this plane on the ground so we can these passengers off the plane." Jose said.

"And we have to get Mary somewhere safe." I said quietly.

"Now we have to see exactly what it is that they want and how we can get it to them. What's our fuel at?"

"15 hours" Rick read off the gauge. I did an instrument scan, everything was in the green and both engines were rich and at 65% so they would burn the most amount of fuel possible at this altitude. We had the auto pilot on, keeping the plane at 35,000 feet and on a northeasterly heading. The air was clear up here, no turbulence, but I could see some clouds below us.

"So we are twenty thousand pounds overweight." Jose answered and we all fell silent.

Rick was the first to speak, "we could fly over the ocean to dump the fuel." He proposed.

"Yeah and we could land at LaGuardia" Eric said. I thought about that for a second, we could turn right to position ourselves away from civilians. That would be relatively easy, with the winds southeasterly at 120 we would only need to be about 10 miles over the ocean to make sure the wind wouldn't carry all the fuel to land.

"Alright let's contact New York Center to get us vectored out there." Rick said.

"And we need to figure out what exactly these guys want" Jose said.

"Look man, just put the guns away, we can land and forget this whole thing happened. You can walk away a free man and everyone on this plan will stay safe." Eric bargained through the door.

"NO!" One of them roared, I think it was the one in charge of all of this. He was the one talking to us the most. "I want Rahm Brandon and I want him at Bangor in 2 fucking hours so we can trade his daughter for his life!" He yelled. Eric had his eye pressed to the peep hole.

"He's white, has blonde hair, and earrings." Eric whispered to us, Jose was sitting still, soaking it all up while rick stared straight at the horizon and I looked at Eric.

"Why don't you put the guns away and calm down?" Eric asked. He sucked at negotiating.

"Why don't you open this fucking door, let me in there to see you guys?" He asked with malice in his voice.

"We can't do that man, it's against regulations." Eric answered.

"Where's Mary?" I yelled, hoping he would hear me.

"She's in the fucking john waiting for me to go and join her." He said and I thought I heard a chuckle, but it was too low to hear.

"Don't you hurt her?" I yelled back, my face was getting hot from my anger.

"What he means is that if you hurt her, Rahm won't want to trade his almost dead daughter for himself, think of the trade man." God what the fuck was wrong with Eric, he was acting like he was high.

"I'll come back over here when you have news about Rahm. Until then, keep fucking quiet and be on the ground at Bangor in 2 hours." He demanded, I heard his retreat.

"Look we need to talk to someone; FBI, CIA the fucking national guard, I don't know. But we need some help with this." Eric said as he sat back down. I looked over my left shoulder and made eye contact with him. He looked incredibly worried and scared. His black hair was disheveled. Then I looked over at Jose, his eyes were glossy, like he was thinking hard.

"I agree." Rick said, then over the radio he spoke to ATC "New York Center we need help up here, can you get in touch with the FBI for us please? Or someone, anyone who can help us with this, the terrorists are making demands." We had been speaking to a man this whole time while we were tuned into Chicago center, but this time it was a woman who spoke.

"American 674 this is the head of New York Center speaking and we have contacted the FBI, they are on their way here, we have also grounded all traffic in and out of LaGuardia and closed down Bangor, the FBI's ETA is approximately 1 hour and they will be stationed at Bangor. What kind of demands are they making sir and how many unsubs are there? We would like the best description you can give us."

"Ma'am we haven't seen the 'unsubs' because our cabin camera is down and we cannot fix it, one of them we saw through the peephole, he's white, blonde and has piercings. However we are sure that there is at least one more of them and they have locked Mary Brandon in the restroom. We don't know exactly why, but they are demanding a trade; Rahm for Mary." Rick answered.

"Okay I will notify the FBI negotiator, is anybody injured?"

"It seems that Mary and one of our flight attendants have been hit a few times, but nothing serious."

"That's good, and I see you are at 060 heading to the coast? Are you prepared to enter a holding pattern so you may dump the fuel?"

"Yes ma'am and then we will begin a descent heading 330 towards Bangor; will I be staying with you for the duration of this flight?"

"Yes sir, you will. Please notify if you have any further interaction with the unsubs."

"Roger, over." Rick said.

Jasper Whitlock

Quantico, Virginia

7:30 pm

"Sir ATC had informed us that they are vectoring 674 to Bangor International." Agent Saxon informed me, he was new to the anti-terrorism unit and had only been working with us for the past month, I didn't know if I trusted him or not.

We were in the cabin of the FBI's plane in Quantico, waiting to take off.

"Do you know what vectoring means?" I asked Saxon, he was sitting diagonally from me at the table, papers and laptops scattered all over it, there were 8 people on this unit and we were supposed to meet up with a SEAL team when we arrived, they had been called in at the same time as us.

Saxon looked sheepish as he stared at his notes. "Does anyone know aviation terms?" I asked the members of my team and they all shook their heads. "Well let's get one of these pilots in here then!" I said exasperatedly.

Three people stood up at once, but Mike practically raced to the door and won. They were such children sometimes. I looked down at my notes;

_Mary Brandon is the target_

_ Rahm Brandon is the demand_

_ Boeing 757_

_ 230 passengers. 2 unsubs, are there more?_

_ 11 flight attendants._

_ 4 men in the cockpit; Edward Cullen, Rick Mladic, Eric Yorkie, and Jose Smith. Are they involved?_

_Landing at Bangor. ETA?_

_ Currently dumping fuel. Why?_

_ Do they have a target? What is their plan? Al Qaeda?_

"Okay Garrett, preform background checks on all of the pilots, where were they the past 24 hours, who are their friends, and how long have they been working with each other? Look at everything, their pets, their girlfriends and their dream jobs.

"Char, do the same on the flight attendants.

"Peter, figure out what the exact dimensions, seating arrangements and food onboard 674, I want to know how many meals are on board and how many stains are in that cabin, then figure out what's in the cargo hold. Anything valuable?"

"Yes sir," Peter replied.

"Everyone else, figure out who these unsubs are and where they have been over the last 5 years. Go through every one of the passengers if you have to, just figure it out.

"Now where is that pilot?" I finished as I looked up to see if the cockpit door had opened back up yet, Mike had gone in so he could speak with them. Just in time I saw Mike open the door, behind him was a tall white guy with a nice suit on, he looked fresh out of college with that 'I'm going to conquer the world' gleam in his eye. He was walking with his hands out of his pockets, eager to be let in on the secrets of the FBI.

"Mike, find out everything you can about this Mary Brandon, can she be an asset or will she be extra baggage. Why was she on this plane?" I ordered Mike and then brought my attention to the pilot; he had a nametag that said Adam. "Hello Adam, if you could answer some questions for me that'd be great." I told him and motioned for him to sit across from me in Mikes vacated seat.

"Of course sir, I'll tell you everything I know." He said as he sat down, smiling slightly.

"Do you know much about a 757?" I started.

"It's a twin engine low wing which is primarily used for commercial flights." He answered robotically, as if he had memorized it beforehand.

I wrote down as he was speaking, "alright, what else, does it have flaws? What's its endurance?"

"Well, I mean every aircraft has its flaws," he breathed out and put his hands on the table between us, intertwining his fingers. "I don't know what's going on here, but you're not the FAA or the NTSB so you're obviously not dealing with an aircraft flaw right now. And as for the endurance, it depends on how much fuel they put into the aircraft before it began its flight."

I looked down at my sheet, "They were flying from Chicago to Cairo, and I don't know their fuel amounts at this moment."

"Well they were scheduled to fly over 6,000 miles so I would assume that they have full fuel tanks right now, and a Boeing 757 burns, on average, 3,000 pounds of fuel an hour, with eleven thousand gallons of fuel, or sixty-seven thousand pounds, that would mean that if they stayed in cruise flight they could be flying for 22 hours." I just stared at him, then tried to write all of that down on my note sheet.

"Alright and let's say they had to dump fuel, why would they do that if they could stay up for the better part of a day?"

"You only ever dump fuel in an emergency, to get below landing weight usually." I waited for him to elaborate. "Well you have minimums and maximums for everything you do when you're flying, your max takeoff weight could be 60,000 pounds heavier than you max landing weight because it's factoring in how much fuel you're going to burn on your trip." This kid was some kind of genius.

"Okay and is it safe to say that in the event of a terrorist attack, like 9/11, a terrorist wouldn't dump fuel because the fuel is the accelerant?"

"Yeah, I mean without the fuel nothing in an airplane would catch fire, it's all fire resistant, not that that helps much of you have 60,000 pounds of fuel on fire below your feet."

"And what is the arrangement of a 757, someone get me blueprint of the plane!" I said to my teammates.

"Sir, I think you're underestimating the size of a 757. You could fit the entire first flight of the Wright brothers in the fuselage of a 757. If there is something going on inside a 757 you're going to have to be pretty freaking invisible to sneak past a few hijackers. It won't be easy." Adam said, looking serious. "I think that the best bet would be to get some eyes in there, drill some holes in the floor and stick some little spider cameras up there. The cockpit would be the safest place to do that, no fuel near the cockpit. Maybe get the cell phone numbers of the pilots and the passengers. Then station some men underneath the aircraft, you can't see more that about 90 degrees from any window in an aircraft. Look at this window, half of it is covered by wing and the other half by fuselage." I looked out and could barely see anything. "Then if they stay in the air, get some f-16 to fly next to them so they can see what's going on and paint you a picture."

Adam finished and I started jotting ideas onto my notepad, "Alright everyone, did you get all that? Let's get these people on the phone." I demanded.

**My flight was cancelled today **** good for you guys though (if anyone actually reads this). But I have discovered a few errors in this and I will address them here but I cannot change them now, **

**First, a 757 only has a two man cockpit, I apologize, that probably would have been less confusing so I apologize. But it's too late now.**

**Also I think I'm making this story entirely too confusing, but I'll try to iron it out soon. A lot of people were introduced in this chappy, you don't have to remember all of their names but in the cockpit are; Edward(Co-Pilot), Rick (Captain), Jose (second shift Captain) and Eric (second shift Co-Pilot). Then on the anti-terrorism unit are Jasper, Peter, Charlotte, Mike and Garrett. They aren't extremely important, but Jazz had to have a team.**

**Finals are over! I got a C on one of them ****. Fuck intro to management. **

**Have a good winter break everyone!**


End file.
